


Reedus Fap Fest 2013 - Floating - Van

by EleanorK



Category: Floating
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Masturbation, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2017-12-31 06:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EleanorK/pseuds/EleanorK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Summer is here and Van is pretty sure it’ll be as pointless and difficult as any other. When an older woman asks him for a favor, he wonders if things could change for the better.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [einfach_mich](https://archiveofourown.org/users/einfach_mich/gifts), [Incog_Ninja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/gifts).



> Takes place prior to beginning of _Floating,_ featuring an original character inspired by the lovely @sunsphereshots. 
> 
> Many thank yous to @einfach_mich & @incog_ninja for helpful advice & edits.

The first few times he’d seen Penny, she’d smiled at him, but he knew she wasn’t really seeing him. She was just there, being a polite summer renter, killing time. Just a vacation for her, a summer thing. While this was his real life, going on endlessly and pointlessly here on the water, and he didn’t have any fucking clue when that’d end.

She knew his name, though; she asked that right away.

“Hi Van,” she always says when she sees him. “How are you doing?”

“Good,” he always says back. Then ducks his head, looks away. She looks at him like he was a kid, like he needed someone to ask him how he was doing. How things were. How it was going, him and his dad and this shitty house. Like she knew he had no mother. Like if he’d stayed one second longer, she’d give him chores to do. And then she finally did, left a note on their door, asking him about mowing her lawn. Which his dad saw and said he had to do, and for free, too.

“You help that lady out,” his father said. “She doesn’t need to pay you, either. You tell her.”

It’s been months since he’s seen Julie. He can barely remember her face. Can barely remember sex with her. And seeing Penny out in her yard, right next door, watering her flowers in her bikini or that black dress that showed off her tattoos? Damn.

Penny was older. There was no way she’d ever thought of him like that. Plus she had a boyfriend, he figured. She was fucking hot enough; there was no way she was alone.

He shifted in his bed, kicked the sheet from off him. He couldn’t sleep for shit lately. He laid there in his boxers, the fan blowing over him, the light blinking. Thought for a minute of his dad, passed out where he’d put him to bed earlier, downstairs.

Fuck. His fucking dad, crying over breakfast. Crying. Drunk before lunch time.

He couldn’t think about his dad. Julie, either.

But Penny? Penny he could think about, no problem. Whether he wanted to or not. Penny was hot. Dark-haired. Fantastic rack. Big smile, with that killer red lipstick. Or maybe they were just red lips? He didn’t know, with some girls you couldn’t tell what was make-up and what was real.

First thing tomorrow, he thought, his hand slipping down his stomach and beneath the waistband of his boxers, he’d go over and mow that fucking lawn of hers. He’d strip out of his shirt and move all those goddamn flower pots she had everywhere and mow that fucker until it was as bald as a fucking baseball field and he was sweaty as hell. Then she’d call him inside and give him a glass of ice water.

He gulps down the water. His fingers circle his dick as it hardens and grows in his palm.

Penny smiles that big sexy smile. She says, “Want more, Van?”

He shakes his head, but she’s not talking about water anymore. She takes the glass from him & sets it on the counter. Hooks her finger through his belt loop and pulls him closer. Presses his face right in those tits of hers. She smells both sweet and sharp. Like fruit, or Kool-aid. Like lake-water. Like all the smells he loves from summer. Like the cut grass he’s got all over his jeans. That he’s getting all over her, now, too.

He’s hard now. He’s hard a lot; he’s 19 and he lives on this goddamn lake where there’s always girls in bikinis hanging around. But this was seriously good, thinking about Penny. Good enough to strip off his boxers completely and get the thing of lotion from his nightstand and coat things down real nice.

He thinks of Penny some more. Penny squeezing her tits for him. Penny stripping down. Penny in a million different positions. How did he want her? On her knees, sucking him off? Julie’d only done that once. She’d been drunk, and she hadn’t let him finish, either. And then never again. She never even brought it up again. Like she wanted to forget. He’d wanted to tell her, it was good, she was good, it felt amazing, and she’d see; he’d do the same to her and it’d be good. But he couldn’t ever think of a way to say that. To bring it up.

But Penny? Penny wouldn’t need him to bring it up. She was older, she didn’t give a shit. She knew what she was doing. Nothing was a big deal, like it’d be with Julie. Penny’d get down on her knees and suck it and suck it and when he came she’d smile up at him, those red lips all wet from swallowing it down.

His wrist was aching a little, he was gripping himself too tight. He was in a hurry and he didn’t need to be, but sometimes he got that way. Impatient. And he was sweating like a fool. But he shuts his eyes and loosens up, softer now. Keeps stroking. Slow and easy, until he sees Penny again. Right where he wants her.

Right next to him, her hands all over him. She whispers into his ear, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She pushes him back against the table, and he puts his hands around her waist, slides them down to her ass. She’s got a sweet ass and his hands push up the skirt of the little black dress she’s wearing until he can feel her panties which are soft and silky.

“Mmm…” she hums into his skin, biting his shoulder a little. Then she leans back and starts unbuttoning her dress, her tits popping out.

She takes his hands and puts them on her tits, which are fucking soft and beautiful and he rubs them over her bra, which is red lace and barely looks like it fits her. He grabs one of them so it comes out of the bra, and her dress hangs off her weird, but she’s not even mad about any of it, the dress coming off or the greedy way he’s feeling her up. She just laughs and smiles. She licks him, on the chest. She’s so happy about this; she’s so into it and it’s like she’s thinks it just fun, not the serious shit Julie made it into, where she always seemed kind of pissed at him the whole time and he felt bad and assholey for wanting her.

“God, you taste good,” she says, her mouth on his neck. Then she kisses him. For the first time. They haven’t kissed yet, and here she is, half naked. He’s just been grabbing and touching. She’s so different than any other girls he’s been with.

She pulls back, nips at his lower lip.

“You taste good, too,” he says. Because she does. Like lemonade and cherries and sex. Smells good, too. Like suntan lotion and flowers and gasoline from the mower.

“You want to taste me for real?” she asks.

“Okay,” he says.

She twists out of her dress, lets it drop on the floor. Stands in front of him, unclips her bra, adds that to pile. Then it’s just her and her panties. Red, like the bra.

He drops to his knees, then, in a big hurry again, because he just wants to get his face in her. His fingers dig underneath the elastic of her panties and he slips them down, slowly, and she’s fully bare. Smooth and soft, no hair at all. He presses his face to her and she’s warm and wet and she tastes like everything he’s ever imagined a girl to taste like. He wraps his hands around her fine ass and brings her closer to his mouth, just licking and kissing. He doesn’t know what to do but he loves being where he is, anyway. She runs her nails through his hair and she’s sighing and gulping, almost like she’s about to laugh out loud. She sounds so happy.

Then she says, “Van? I can’t wait any more. Van…?”

She sounds frantic, urgent, so he stands up to see what her deal is and her hands are on his fly, rubbing him and she starts undoing the buttons of his jeans and saying, “Please? Please? Okay?”

And he says nothing, just lets her pull him out of his boxers because he will do whatever she wants. Give her whatever she wants. She looks down at him, rock hard in her hand. Pushes his jeans to the floor.

“Take off your shoes,” she says. And he does, and the whole she’s smiling, her mouth red and open. Once he’s naked, he looks around, wondering if she wants to go to her bed or something.

Licking her lips, she shakes her head a little. “Right here. Right now.”

She kicks her panties off her ankle and pushes him onto the table. He lays back, the table smooth and cold against his skin. She climbs over him, kissing him, her hands sweeping over him chest, and then over the piles of mail, which she sweeps onto the floor. She fits herself over him, all bare, her pussy delicious and wet, sliding over him. It feels so good to be this naked with her, everything naked, everything touching, skin to skin.

“I want you so bad,” she says. She rubs those tits against him, kisses him, then grips his hips with her knees and slides herself over him, slowly, all the way down to his balls, trapping him beneath her, no stopping for a condom or to ask if it was okay or any of that shit like he had to do with Julie.

It feels perfect. Exactly fucking perfect.

Her knees squeeze against him as she rides him, slowly. Up and down, she slides, unbelievably slow. His hand moves faster, the lube squeaking all noisy. He reaches over to the window and turns up the fan so he can’t hear it. Puts his wrist over his eyes so the light wouldn’t remind him of where he was.

“You’re so big,” she says. Riding him, her hands pressing on his chest to get the right position. Her tits bounce all pretty, the nipples tight and red. He watches his dick go in and out of her. There’s a tattoo around her belly button, a circle of some kind. Flowers? Diamonds? Something else? He doesn’t care; she’s breathing hard. He reaches to touch her tattoo and feels her skin, slightly damp with sweat.

“Harder,” she says. He puts his hands around her hips. Driving her, moving her the way he wants.

“Oh, baby,” she says, her hand on his belly, running up and down the little trail of hair there. “You’re so good.”

He wants to keep going. He never wants this to end. At the same time, he wants to come so bad that he can barely breathe. Watching her above him, feeling her all around him, her nails pinching into his chest as she holds herself up, pinned to his cock like she is – it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

But then she says his name, quietly. Then louder. And then she comes and he can’t get enough. The sounds she makes. Her hair all over her shoulders. Her eyes close and her head tips back and he can feel her pussy so tight around him, clenching. Spasming. She’s so loud he knows that everyone can hear, through the open window, all the way across the lake, and he thinks everyone will know what they’ve done.

But then he doesn’t care, because he’s coming too. Finally. And it’s so good. His back is tensing, and sweating against the table top and she feels so excellent that he shuts his eyes, too, and says, “Penny,” softly, in a whisper. She reaches down and kisses him and everything goes white and black under the light of the blinking fan into a warm pool on his stomach.

He lays there a while, in his bed. Coming back to life. His muscles relaxing in waves. The stickiness on his belly grows cold under the fan after a while and he grabs a t-shirt off the floor to wipe himself off. Then he goes to the bathroom and takes a quick drink of water before stumbling back to bed, still naked.

He pulls the covers over him again, the light flashing over him. He feels fucking excellent. Perfect. Ready to sleep. He turns the fan down a bit now and licks his lips. He swears he can taste her; Penny, all over his lips. He will go over and mow her lawn tomorrow, as soon as he wakes up. He feels like summer can last forever and that’d be just fine with him. As he falls asleep, dreaming of her pretty red lips and her big smile, he can almost smell the fresh-cut grass.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny is bored and unemployed, living off the rest of her severance package, rent-free at the family lake cabin. She doesn't know what her next move will be, until she meets the next door neighbor kid, who's a lot younger, but no stranger to being stuck, either.

He mows the lawn like he's mad at it, pushing the mower around like he's pissed. He's shirtless, always, and she doesn't mind looking, though she guesses he's pretty young. Not high school young, but not more than a year out of it, his father told her.

His father had sad eyes and seemed eager to be kind, but also embarrassed. Of himself? Of his wheelchair? Of the pity he could see she had for him, which she tried desperately to keep out of her expression? It was hard, looking down at him in his chair like he was and not worry about him seeing it. Not have it cross her mind, how she was coming off to him, if he she looked natural, if she was acting normal, making him at ease. That was when she thought of the lawn mowing idea; she didn't want to mow it and she figured Van's father would feel like he was doing something nice for her, something helpful.

She cuts up another lemon, drops it into the pitcher of sweet tea she's made. The mower stops and she looks out the kitchen window, sees Van emptying out the bag into the compost heap by the shed. He lights a cigarette and squints at the cabin. She waves, but he must not see her, because he keeps looking, doesn't wave back.

She sighs. Pours herself a glass of tea. Sits down at the kitchen table and looks through the pile of mail she just had forwarded here. Bills. Crap from her old life, before she was laid off. She had worked in an office of a company that disposed of medical waste and it was boring, though sometimes the stuff she saw in letters and stuff was amusingly gross. 

"Your mower's out of gas."

She looks up, sees Van in the doorway. He's putting his shirt back on; there's a big hole in it, though, and she can see his skin through it. He looks nice shirtless, but maybe he doesn't know it. Maybe he wishes he was bigger than he is. He's thin, sure, but he's got some muscles. 

"Oh," she says. Standing up. "I'll go get you some more..."

"No, I'm done," he said. "Just, for next time."

She nods. "Thank you, Van," she says. 

But he's already turning around, saying "No problem" as he walks out toward his house.

***

That night, she gets kind of drunk. She drinks some wine with her dinner and then she drinks some more while listening to music and lying on the couch and then she gets the idea to go out to the dock. The one on the other side, not the one right by her house. It's down the little trail; she's hung out there before, but never at night. But she wants to be outside because it's so damn hot. The cabin has no air conditioning and the fan in the window is just recycling the same stale air. 

She slips into her flipflops and heads down. It's late. Past midnight. Dark as hell. She stumbles, and almost turns back. She's not a reckless person, by nature; she's not a drinker, either. She's usually not living in someone's cabin, and is out of a job, and just dumped by her last boyfriend, Aaron, who decided he needed to be with someone who really believed in his 'music.'

Aaron, who hadn't worked in a year. Who hadn't paid a bill in a year. Aaron, who was sleeping with the girl who sang in his band. That girl had a rich daddy who paid for her condo downtown.

Penny sat on the dock, heavily, clunking the second bottle of wine she'd just opened. It was a red, a Malbec. She loved deep, juicy reds. She sipped a bit more, ran her hand around the bottle. Kicked a little splash into the lake, feeling the cool water. She pulled the sweep of hair over her shoulder and made it into a quick sloppy braid, just to get it off her neck. 

"Oh, hey."

She turns. Van, standing there, uncertain. 

"Didn't see you there. Sorry." 

He turned, as if to leave.

"No, you can stay," she says. "Don't mind me. It's not like it's my dock, you know."

He stood, still, though. Looked at her. She stared at the hole in his t-shirt.

"It's okay, Van," she says.

"I was just gonna have a quick smoke," he says.

"That's fine," she says. She slaps the wood on the dock for him sit down, swigs some more wine. "Jesus, I'm not a total killjoy." 

He smiles a little, then, and she can't help but feel happy. He's a cute guy, but she's never seen him smile, and it's nice. He sits down and pulls out a box of cigarettes. 

"You want one?" he asks.

"Sure," she says. 

"Didn't know you smoked?"

"I don't," she says. 

He lights her cigarette, which she thinks is precious, but he doesn't spend much time on it, making it into something smooth and romantic. Just quick lights hers and then his own, exhaling a long rush of smoke over the water. Like he couldn't wait any longer. His leg is trembling up and down on the dock, nervously, and she wonders if it's her making him nervous, or it's something else. 

"You want a little wine?" she says. "It's a nice red."

He shakes his head. "Not really a wine guy," he says. Keeps smoking, his leg keeps trembling. He's still wearing his boots, same jeans he wore to mow the lawn. She wonders what he's been doing all afternoon. All evening. So she asks him.

He shrugs. "Nothing much. Went to the grocery with my dad. Saw some people."

She coughs a little on the smoke; she hadn't smoked in a long time. Aaron was a prick about smoking; he had all these clean-living principles. 

"You don't have to finish it," he says. "If you don't like it."

She puts it out on the dock, and hands it to him, and he puts it back in the box.

"You're gonna keep it?"

"Why not? You barely smoked it."

"It's got lipstick all over the filter." 

He shrugs. She laughs. He's so cute. She has no idea what's going on his head and it doesn't matter; he's cute, he's weird, he's right here, smelling good, like mowed grass and gasoline and smoke. Everything about him is just so _good_. She can feel it, to her toes, how good he is, but she knows he has no idea about himself. None. No idea of what she sees.

She puts her hand on his thigh and before she really can think about it, she kisses him. It doesn't last long, though. Just lips, no tongue. She's surprised him, because he pulls back, just a bit. Looks at her. Like he's asking if she's serious.

She smiles, kisses him again, and this time, he's into it. His hands slip around her back and bring her closer to him and slide, slowly, up and down the material of her t-shirt, down to the waist-band of her cut-off denims, his fingers riffing along between the skin and the shirt. Now she's the one surprised. He feels a bit more practiced now.

"Nice," she says, licking around his ear. 

"What," he says.

"You're nice," she repeats. 

"Oh," he says. "You're...you're nice, too." He sounds so uncertain, though, different from his swift, sure hands. She wants to laugh. She presses a hand to his zipper, feels him there. Hard. All ready to go. Yes. 

He stops. Freezes.

"You're not...you're not married or anything, are you?"

She shakes her head. Squeezes him through his jeans. She smiles.

"I'm not that old, Van."

"I didn't mean..."

"Don't worry about it," she says. Then she kisses him again, more. Longer. She realizes that he's probably used to that. Younger girls make guys wait, want guys to earn it, work for it. That she's not a girl like that makes her feel happy, though maybe it's little weird. She hasn't been a girl in that sense in a long time. She hasn't made out with a guy, put him through the hoops like that since she was 14, maybe. After her first time having sex, she didn't see the point of putting a guy off any longer. She'd fuck him as soon as kiss him, really. Maybe that made her a slut. Or just grown-up a lot faster. What did it matter? Everyone ended up on this side, anyway. 

At least if they were lucky.

Van's hands slip up her shirt, softly. He touches her like she's breakable. Like she's going to get mad. It's kind of cute, how cautious he is.

She reaches up, pulls her shirt off. Take a drink of wine while he takes a good look. She looks good, she knows it.  

"You want some?" she asks, holding the bottle out.

He nods. But he doesn't reach for the bottle, but for her and that's when she pulls him back onto her, hard. Her head knocks against the dock, her messy braid slipping between the wooden slats and into the water. She opens her knees, and grabs his ass and pushes him to grind against her. Like to show him, to tell him, _it's okay: this is what we do, here on the other side._

It's just what he needs, too. Her on her back, him in charge. She realizes while she's drunk, he seems completely sober. Maybe he came here to smoke something besides cigarettes and she interrupted that. In any case, he's got inhibitions and her being older has to be something that he's not sure about.

Which turns her on even more, really. She arches her back underneath him, grinds against him, and his hands squeeze her boobs, pulling one of them out of her bra. He's still so soft, though. Hesitant. Gentle. So gentle she wants him to knock her around a little. Let him know he can have her, anyway he likes.

So she wiggles out of her bra and presses his head against her as he sucks her nipples and it feels nice, but still slow and careful. Just like his hands. 

He was just going to be that way, she thinks. Fine.

She reaches for his hand and rubs it, as he's feeling her left breast. Then she pushes his hand, lower and lower, under the waistband of her cut-offs, under her panties. He needs to know what he's doing to her. Needs to know it _now._

He makes a sound when his fingertips touch her wetness. His hand stills. Then dips into her. She sighs, feeling him press up into her, knuckles bent deep inside her. Nobody's touched her down there in so long.

But then he pulls his hand out and she wants to cry. She's frustrated. She's realizing this younger man thing might just be hot in her head, not in reality. 

Until she sees him put his fingers in his mouth.

Licks each one. Slowly. Of course.

He says, "You taste nice, Penny."

She swears, her panties soak through, just hearing that.

But she just says, "Thank you." Smiles at him, like she already knows this; of course she tastes nice.

She unzips her shorts and twists out of them and then she lies back again, because his head is slowly - again, with the slowly! -  moving down her belly, kissing and licking until he gets to her panties, which he removes at the same ridiculous tortured rate and then once his head is between her legs and she can feel his hair tickling her inner thighs, only then does he move faster. Faster, and with so much enthusiasm, she can't believe she worried before that this wouldn't be good. The boy is licking her like she's delicious, pressing his whole face into her, squeezing her ass like she's his last meal.

It's really hot, how into it he is, but after a while, she can see he doesn't know what he's doing. Where to go. And how would he? He's never been shown a thing about this, probably. And never a thing about her, specifically. She either shows him or just tries to make the best of it.

She decides that he deserves to know. He's young; he's got so much ahead of him. He deserves to have some explanations.

And she deserves to come her brains out, right now, here on this dock, drunk out of her mind, screaming it all across the lake.

She laughs to herself, then she grabs for his hair.

"Van," she says.

He looks up, his eyes half-closed.

"Right here, baby," she says, reaching down to where he needs to be and rubbing the spot with her hand. "Suck right here."

He doesn't say anything, just does it. But he's still in the same eager mode. 

"Slower, honey," she says. "Slow. Like you were before. Nice and slow...yes. Like that. Uh huh. Good..."

He gets back into it, lifts her ass into his hands again. Finds the rhythm. It's a minute before she can lay her head back and relax. Her braid is all tangled and wet from dipping through the dock. She can smell the lake water and she can see the stars, bright against the black sky and she can hear the sounds his mouth makes on her juiciness and just that, that sound, that obviously-sex sound, so dirty and perfect, is what brings her concentration back. Back from instruction and tension and how to set this whole thing up for him and back to her drunken-just-want-to-feel-good-dammit original idea. The idea that made her drink all that wine to begin with; the idea that brought her out here to cool off. She feels herself pressing into his mouth, rubbing against his sucking, everything building in that thick hot way she's missed for so long.

One of his hands wanders up her belly, then, and she thinks he'll grab her boobs again. Tease her nipples, pinch them, maybe. A lot of guys think that by adding more, they'll make a girl come faster. Or harder. Because that works for them, in getting off. They don't realize that it's consistent motion that gets the job done just fine.

But instead, Van takes one of her hands, laces fingers with her. And it's just so sweet. She laughs and he looks up for a minute, smiling at her from below her belly, and then he's back to work. So obedient, doing what he's told. He must be bursting, hard as hell in his pants, and that thought sounds so good, too, so, so excellent and good and when she comes she's smiling with closed eyes against the bright stars in her brain and against the sky mirrored by the lake, unrolling above them. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van thinks he's blown it with Penny.

After that night on the dock, he doesn't see Penny for a while.

Jason and Flip had hollered at him from out on the water while Penny was grabbing around for her clothes and he hadn't known what to do.

"They're my friends, it's okay," he had told her. But Penny had just picked up her wine bottle, buttoned up her shorts and said good-night.

And he'd ignored his friends' stupid comments. He didn't want them to know about Penny. About any of it. If it got back to Julie...or his dad. Jesus.

But he can't forget feeling her come, her body exploding beneath his mouth. That had never happened to him, obviously and it was so perfect. He would have known it was real, even if she hadn't made the sounds she made.

But those sounds she made! He keeps replaying them, and the whole rest of it, in his head. Especially at night in bed, when he can't sleep. Which has been almost every night since. He's jerking it so much, it's like he's back in junior high.

But he hasn't seen her. Not out in the yard. Not anywhere. Her car isn't in the drive. He feels like a stalker, looking for her, though he tries not to keep track. Can't help but notice that her grass needs a trim. Even his dad notices that.

"Goddammit, Van," he says one morning. "Get off your ass and do what you said you'd do."

As if the old man has something over him in the productivity department. As if he does shit besides suck down vodka and paint his little figurines and cry like a fucking baby.

He puts the mowing off all day. Looks out the window to see if she's around. Listens for her car in the drive. Nothing.

Finally, after dinner, he goes over there. The sun's fading and he'l lose the light, be swarmed with bugs if he doesn't get to it already.

But when he gets to her shed, he can't start the mower. No gas.

"Fuck," he says. Kicks the fucking mower with his shoe.

His dad will be pissed. He wants to fucking bail. But he has to go ask her, tell her he tried. Or get the gas himself. He doesn't have any fucking money, though. He never has any fucking money. And Penny has never paid him. Unless that night on the dock counted as payment. 

Slowly, he walks to her door. He'll at least tell her that he meant to mow it. That had to count. Then he could leave. He doesn't have to say anything else. She doesn't owe him anything and because she's not come around to find him doesn't mean shit. She'd been drunk that night on the dock. She'd tasted like wine, all right. Just thinking of it gives him the shivers. Makes his dick tighten. But he'd been a pussy for not going over there before. Even if he hadn't seen her around. 

He knocks. No answer.

He can hear music. He knocks louder. Nothing.

He can smell cooking. Her car isn't there, though. Maybe someone else is living there, now?

He steps back, looks around toward the kitchen window. There's a pan on the stove, a bottle of wine on the counter. He wonders if she's a drunk or something. Sure liked her wine, that night on the dock.

He considers walking in, calling for her. But that seems too creepy. Too invasive. He heads back to the shed to lock up the door at least. Knowing Jason and Flip, they'd fucking rip off her mower and then he'd be screwed.

"Van?"

She's standing out the yard. Wearing jeans and this little red shirt, strapless, nothing underneath it, from the look, but it pushes her tits up real pretty. He can see the tan line from her bikini on the top of them.

"There's no..." he starts. "I was gonna mow the grass and...You said last time that..."

"Right," she says, nodding. "I didn't get any more for the gas can."

"Yeah," he says. Out of words.

"Come on in, why don't you," she says. "You can mow tomorrow. I'll go to the gas station tomorrow, okay? Unless you can't..."

"No, I can," he says. Not knowing what he was saying he could do. Come in? Mow tomorrow? Get the gas?

She turns, though, so he follows her. She's barefoot. God, she's cute. Sexy as hell. Everything she does fucking turns him on. And it isn't just because he hasn't gotten any while Julie was at school. It's not.

In her house, everything smells good. Like mint and berries and something fried, like chicken. Or steak. 

"You eat dinner, Van?" she asks.

"No, but..."

"Let me make you something. I've got plenty left."

Then he's sitting at the table, staring at a pile of mail and magazines while she fixes him a plate of food. Meatballs and spaghetti and a glass of sweet tea with mint and a pile of green beans with some buttery sauce and it's all so good. Way better than the shit he fixes for him and his dad. And he doesn't mean to, but he eats it all, super fast, and she gives him more. He hasn't even mowed the lawn; he hasn't done shit all day, but here he is, hungry like he'd been working out or swimming or whatever.

Then she brings him a cold beer and sits down with him, a glass of wine in front of her. She pushes the magazines and mail to the side and lays her arms on the table between them and says, "So, what have you been up to lately?"

"Nothing," he says. Which is true. Nothing is all that ever happens to him lately, really. Until she showed up.

"I don't believe you," she says, smiling, tapping a fingernail to her wine glass. Her nails are painted dark red. It was kind of freaks him out, how sexy she is. She's like, magazine-sexy. And a grown-woman. Jules is a girl. Penny is a woman. 

"Believe it," he says. He takes a long swig of his beer. He's nervous as fuck. He wonders if he has stuff in his teeth. He wonders if she thinks he's a man, or just a boy. A kid.

He wants to lay her out on this table and fuck her brains out. Just like he's been jerking it to, all summer long.

He wonders now if she can tell what he's thinking. He feels sweat bead on his back. 

"Van," she says. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"You seem nervous. You want to smoke in here? You can smoke in here."

"No, that's all right." He'd love a smoke but he doesn't want to make her house reek.

She stands up, grabs his plate and glass for him.

"I can do that," he says, standing up, too. "You don't have to..."

And then she's right next to him and his hand brushes along her waist, along the soft cotton of her shirt. He feels her belly shiver. And she ducks her head and smiles again, that red lipstick smile. His dick hardens again - it was already hard, but he takes the dishes from her and set them in the sink, quietly. Like he doesn't want to hurry, even though he might lose his mind with impatience. Then he turns around, puts his palms on the edge of the sink. 

Looks at her. Standing there, by the table. They stare at each other a beat too long. She tilts her head and smiles. They are thinking the same thing, he knows it.

"Come here," he says. 

She smiles bigger. Doesn't move, though.

"What for?" she asks.

"You know," he says. His face gets hot. He's fighting a smile, trying to be cool.

She walks over to him. Stands in front of him. Her hands hook in her back pockets, her boobs stick out. She's close, but not touching him. 

"No," she says, twisting her head up to look at him. "I don't think I do know. Tell me."

"Penny, come on..."

Then, like she's tired of waiting, like she can't keep up the act, she reaches toward him, her hand clutching a bit of his t-shirt. He is hard, then. Fully hard. He wants her to touch him more. 

"Did you know what my real name is? Penelope. Can you believe that?"

He shakes his head. He's staring at her tits. He can't help it. She's so close, he can smell her. She smells like the mint in the sweet tea. And wine.

"What's your name short for?" she asks.

"Nothing. Just Van."

"What's your middle name, then?"

"Christopher."

"Mine's Rae," she says. "Isn't that ugly?"

"Nothing about you's ugly, Penny."

"You're too sweet, Van," she says. Then she tilts up her head and kisses him. Her hands run up the back of his shirt, skating over his skin and pushing it over his head.

He smiles, and then laughs against her pretty mouth.

"What?" she says.

"Nothing," he says, his hands bunching up her shirt in the back, running up her smooth skin, so greedy to remember what she feels like.

"You always say that," she says. "' _Nothing.'_ Something's going on with you, boy. Don't even lie."

 _Boy_. God. She thinks he's a kid. A _boy_. He wants to push her away for a minute. But her hand is already on his fly. Unbuttoning.

"What do you have here for me, huh?" she asks. Her hand slips into his boxers, curve around his dick. He closes his eyes.

"Don't tell me it's nothing."

He keeps his eyes shut, just feeling her hand on him, how good it feels. Still, he's embarrassed. It isn't bright lights in her cabin by any means, but he's never done anything like this with all the lights on, everything visible. And he's harder than he's ever remembered being before. 

"Van," she says. "Are you okay?"

"I'm perfect," he says, opening his eyes. Goddamn, she's still so sexy. Her hair falls over her eyes as she looks down toward his dick.

"I'm great," he adds. He clears his through. "Stop asking me that all the time." He reaches up toward her tits, rubs them. Feels her nipples through the fabric. He loves that she's not wearing a bra. He could pull that shirt down and have at her tits, any second now. But he'll wait. He'll save it up.

"I like asking you. I like how shy it makes you," she says. She kisses him. Bites his lower lip. Then goddamn if she doesn't lower to her knees, her mouth skimming down his chest as she goes.

He grips the sink counter again, just as he feels her breath on his cock. He's worried and he's happy, both. He's worried he'll come the second she puts him in her mouth. He's happier than hell to be here, again, though; for the second time in his life, he's going to get his dick sucked and this time, it's by a woman who knows what's she's doing. 

But she doesn't start sucking. Her mouth is on his cock, but it's like she's kissing it. Then she moves back and her hands are all over his stomach, curling into his hair down there around his dick, reaching underneath his balls. She's licking the skin above his dick, sucking and breathing everywhere BUT where he wants her. He grips the edge of the sink tighter. His knees are trembling from locking them.

She finally puts the tip in her mouth. Just the tip, but her tongue swirls around it so quick and slippery that he can't help but groan out loud. 

Now she laughs. He feels her laugh against his dick. Like she wants to make him uncomfortable.

He almost feels mad, but then she takes him in her mouth, all the way and then she's sucking. The whole thing, up and down, and so tight. It's unbelievable. It's better than when Jules did it. Because it feels like Penny _means_ it. Like Penny really enjoys it. Like this is exactly what she wants to be doing, no questions, no hesitation. 

She presses her hands around his groin, her nails clutching into the skin and hair around his dick and she doesn't change the pace but he swears, he can hear her moaning a little. Just a little. He reaches down, touches her hair, which is soft and smooth and dark. He curls his fingers through it a little bit.

She makes the sound again, a little moan. He can feel it vibrate through his dick. 

He can hear her mouth sucking, the sound of spit and sex and then he knows it'll be over soon and he's nervous, just a little, about what she'll do when he comes, but he can't think about it because then he does and he gasps, gulps for air, reaches for her hair a little more roughly than he means to, because she swallows it all, keeps sucking as he comes, like she's draining him, like she's making it happen instead of it being a thing that just happens to him, like when he jerks off. And she doesn't stop. It gets more and more intense with each second it continues until he's sure his balls will explode, and he finally has to push her away, say, "Penny, please" and only then does she stop sucking and look up at him and at that moment when he sees her smiling red lips, he is sure that  is the most beautiful woman he's ever seen in his entire life.

 


	4. Chapter 4

He doesn't know what to do now. Though he wants to lie down. Sleep.

But not quit touching her. And not go home.

It's not quite dark out. He can see the sun reflecting orange on the window of the microwave behind her, as she stands up, straightens her top a little.

"Penny, I..."

He can't think of anything to say. Nothing that would sound good, at least.

"I'm sorry," he says, because she's laughing at him. At his inability to talk. "I've become stupid. Am stupid."

She hugs him, then, her hair soft under his chin, pinning her body to him and him against the sink.

"You are not stupid," she says. "Come on."

She takes his hand. She gets him another beer. Pours herself another glass of wine. Tells him to take off his shoes. He leaves them by the front door, next to her sandals, and follows her toward the back of the cabin, until they are in a bedroom. Her bedroom. Or at least where she's been sleeping. She turns on the little lamp on the nightstand and the room glows softly.

She leads him to the bed, tells him to sit down and he does and the bed is soft and the room smells like her. Sweet and pretty. Girly. The bed has a white cover on it, with little red flowers dotting the whole thing that match her lips and he wants to get in bed with her and sleep. And feel her naked, too. Wake up and fuck her. He already feels a little hard again. God, she turns him on like nobody else.

"You got any weed, Van?" she asks. She's shaking her hair around her shoulders, taking off the little hoop earrings he didn't notice she wore. She sets the earrings on the nightstand. 

"Sure," he says. Sets down his beer on the nightstand and reaches into his pocket for his one-hitter and his lighter and the little bag. There's just a few buds left.

"You like smoking?" he asks, packing the one-hitter and handing it and his lighter to her.

"Sometimes," she says. "When I've had a few glasses of wine. And when I want to fuck someone. Say, the guy who comes over to mow my lawn."

He doesn't know what to say. Again. He just watches her take a hit. She exhales all over him and it's sexy as fuck.

"I didn't really mow your lawn this time," he says.

She shrugs. Hands him the one-hitter.

He shakes it off. 

"No?" she asks.

"I'm good," he says. "Go ahead." He sits down on the bed and drinks his beer. Watches her take another hit, drink some of her wine, andset it all on the nightstand, too. He wants to be stone-cold sober for this. He wants to know everything, remember everything. Be as sharp as possible. Since this thing started with Penny, he's been aware of it ending, at any time. And so he wants to feel every last bit of it. Keep everything as clear in his memory as he can.

"I want you to strip me, Van," she says. "I want you to take everything off me."

"Okay."

"And then I want you to do whatever you want to me. With me."

"Whatever I want?"

"Yes."

He laughs. He doesn't know if she's serious or just high. But he's so turned on now he doesn't know what to say. So he lifts her shirt off, her hair flying everywhere and her perfect naked tits under his hands. Then he reaches for her jeans, unbuttons and zips and pushes them down her hips, past her little white satin panties. She's got such curvy hips, such a sweet ass. She's a real woman.  A woman who wants this and doesn't have any reservations about it. Not some little scared stick like Jules.

She takes his hand, slips it under her panties. She's slippery wet.

"Feel that?" she asks. 

"Yeah," he says, reaching forward and pushing two fingers easily inside her. He's fucking her with his hand now, up and down. It's incredible. She feels tight and wet and hot.

"Ohhh..." she says, her hands on his wrist. 

"Come here," he says, because she's so far from him. He wants to feel all of her. He pulls her into his lap and she tumbles a bit, falls against him, knocking him on his back on her bed, one of her tits in his face and he groans because he wants her, all of her. He's ready again. He closes his eyes, full of the idea of it.

"Just wait a second," she says, and stands up, steps out of her panties. "Okay. Now you."

He opens his eyes. "Now me what?"

But she's tugging off his socks, unbuttoning his jeans, pulling them down. Then his boxers, too, are sliding down. She's stripped him fully naked. He closes his eyes again and feels her body over his, every part of her slowly rubbing up until her mouth lands on his, her tongue pressing deep.

"Better," she says. "Much better."

"God, you feel good," he says, his hands sliding over her back, down her spine, gripping her ass. Her tits are smashed against his chest and he can feel her pussy, still wet and warm, over his bare dick. She's so warm and soft. 

 "Are you already ready again?" she asks. She grinds against his dick. Of course he is. 

"I forget, you're just a young man," she adds, laughing.

"I'm 19, Christ," he says, feeling prickly. "I'm not that young."

"And I'm 26," she says. "So I say you're young."

"Whatever," he says.

"Right," she says back, kissing his cheek. "I'm not making fun of you, Van. Maybe I'm making fun of me. Being so obvious."

"I'm not a fucking virgin, Penny," he says. "Just so you know."

"What a shame," she says. "I'd love to be your first."

He smiles, then, because he'd love that, too. Not that he thinks much about his first, because it wasn't that much fun. He and the girl were both drunk and it was dark. And short. It'd been Jules' first time, with him, though. He remembers Jules face, her forehead all wrinkled up like she was doing a math assignment, looking upset and tense, even if he'd asked her if she was all right thousand times. Even if it was her idea, her getting on the pill, her parents out of town that night, all of it. 

But Penny, as his first? Penny, in general. Goddamn. His hands slide up and down her body, settling at her hips, which he thinks he loves best. Her hips and ass. Or her tits. He can't decide. He can't stop smiling

"God, you're pretty when you smile," she says. 

"I'm _pretty_?"

"Whatever. Handsome. Cute. I would so fuck you. If I could."

He squeezes her hips. "What?"

She lifts herself off him until she's sitting up and he feel her pussy spread over him and it's killing him.

"I don't have any condoms," she said. 

He's kind of shocked.  As shocked as he can be with his dick just centimeters from being inside her and her being a real adult who has no condoms. What the fuck.

"You don't happen to have any, do you?"

"Yeah," he says. "Just one, though."

"Where?" she asks. "In your jeans?"

"In my wallet."

She swings her legs over him, stands up. God, she's hot. He could watch her walk around naked all day long.

"Van, you are so slutty," she says. "You know you're not supposed to keep them in your wallet." She finds the condom and tosses his jeans on the floor again. "How old is this thing?"

He lifts himself up on his elbow, shrugs. "I just put it there a while ago. Not that long. After that one night. You know, when we..."

She smiles, rushes back to the bed to kiss him, knocking him on his back.

"You're so fucking cute, you know that?" She fits herself over his hips again, pushing back over his thighs so she can get at his dick.

"And I love your cock," she says, ripping open the package and setting the rubber on the tip of his dick. "It's very nice. It's beautiful. Look at it!"

"Jesus," he says, embarrassed. Not just because it looks like his wang is wearing a goddamn hat. But also because it's standing straight up and hard as hell. And nobody's ever called it his 'cock' or 'beautiful' on top of that.

She rolls the rubber over him, squeezes the tip. "Good thing you're prepared," she said. "I went off the pill months ago. Can't trust a girl like me, obviously." She looks up at him, then down at his dick, licks her lips. She looks greedy and horny and he can't even believe it.

"You ready, Van?"

"It's not obvious?" he asks.

She fits herself over him and laughs and then he can't help it. He grabs her hips with both hands and slams her down over him and she screams and it feels so fucking good he can't stand it.

"Oh, Van," she breathes. She's surprised. But happy. She lifts up again and rocks against him, riding him, her tits bouncing above him. He might be leaving marks on her hips, he's gripping her so tight. 

"Good?" he asks, barely able to speak.

"Yeah," she says, her palms fitting over his shoulders so she can get a better angle. "Oh, my god. You feel so good. Show me what you want, okay?" She gasps, her neck tips back. He lifts up to meet her just as she's on the downstroke and Jesus fucking Christ but he feels like he could come, any second now.

What does he want? 

Exactly what he has, that's all. No more, no less. 

"This. This is...good," he says, as he thrusts up again. Goddamn. He's going to come and it's going to be over and fuck. 

"Can you...can we..." he chokes out. Feels like an idiot.

"Van?" she asks, her nails skating over his chest. 

"I want you on your knees, Penny," he says, before he can think. Or stop himself.

But she looks at him, her eyes hot and intense and she instantly obeys. Slides off him, grabs onto the headboard, bends over so her ass is in the air. Shakes her long hair back.

"You can pull it if I'm not how you like it, baby," she says, flipping her face behind her and winking. "My hair."

He fits himself between her ass. Her ass is pretty much the most delicious thing ever. He reaches between her legs to find the right spot and she starts sighing. What? Has he touched her clit? A mistake, but a good one. He adds another finger, starts rubbing again, and her ass goes higher in the air, her wet pussy pressing against his cock. He hopes this feels good. He wants to get her off. He wants to feel it when she does. And...

"Slower, honey," she says. He nods, though she can't see him. "That's right," she adds, when he adjusts. "Mmmm..."

There's something about making a girl - a woman, _Penny is a woman_ , he reminds himself - feel this way, do these things, make those sounds, that he thinks could be used as some kind of currency in a more enlightened world. 

And then when she comes, wetness shuddering around his fingers, he's sure of it. Sure of the new world order he'd build based on just that.

But that'll have to wait. Because she's not even done crying out and he's shoved himself inside her, all the way. 

"Fuck," he says, out loud, surprising himself.

"Harder," she says, whipping her head back so her hair flies everywhere. But he won't pull her hair, lets it hang off the sides of her back. He's gripping her hips like his life depends on it, he's slamming home into her, making her scream, making the bed shake and creak until he comes himself.

* * *

Penny is lying on the bed, totally naked, no covers, when he gets back from ditching the condom in the bathroom. Her skin is flushed and sweaty. 

"Can you open that window?" she asks. "It's so hot in here." 

He does what she asks, sure he looks like a dork, struggling to push up the sash, but when he turns around, she's standing behind him, and has pulled back the covers.

"Thank you," she says. "Now come and lay down, okay?"

He tries not to feel like a kid again; she sounds like she's bossing him, like she wants to be his mom. It takes him a minute to realize she's thanking him, rewarding him for a job well done. She turns off the light on the nightstand and curls beside him. She's practically purring in satisfaction.

"Mmm," she says, her nose in the nook between his chest and armpit. "That was good. Really, really good. Surprised how good it was. For the first time, at least."

"That wasn't really the first time for me and you," he says, his hand in her hair, sweeping it lazily along her shoulder.

"You know what I mean," she says. "I usually don't come like that."

"Maybe it was the weed," he says. 

She laughs. "No," she says. "You turn me on. That's what it is. Everything you do. Jesus." She sighs, snuggles closer to him, pulling the covers up more. She yawns.

It's dark and he can feel her breathing slow. She's going to fall asleep. And he wants to fall asleep, too, though he probably shouldn't. He should go home and make sure his dad is okay. But he can't imagine leaving Penny now, she's so soft and relaxed beside him, her smooth legs tangled between his.

"Everything I do," he repeats. "You're crazy, Penny. I'm an idiot. I've only been with two other girls. And one was just one time."

"So?" she says, sounding sleepier.

"I mean, I have no game," he says. "You're the one who does it to me."

She kisses his chest, right above his nipple, then his mouth.

"You don't need game to fuck," she says. "You just need enthusiasm. And to be yourself. Now go to sleep, Van," she says. 

"You're nice, Penny," he says, softly. Not sure if he hears him. He pulls her closer to him, feeling protective. Feeling, what is this? Happy?

"Penny...?"

"Shh, Van," she says. "If you want waffles in the morning, you need to let me get my beauty sleep."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
